


Dislocated

by DefaltManifesto



Series: 15 Day Lyric Challenge [3]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Child Abandonment, Gen, Identity Issues, Loss of Identity, Post-Series, Post-War, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Ideation, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: You're dislocated, don't be like that





	Dislocated

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. This is one of the darkest things I've ever written. Please do not romanticize this in any way, it's meant to be a depiction of a very unhealthy mindset of defining your existence by how someone feels for you. I'm going to like go take a shower cuz I feel gross writing this. Despite that I hope you enjoy anyways. Comments are loved. 
> 
> Today's fic was prompted by the lyric "if you're not made for me/why did we fall in love" from Fear The Water by SYML. The title and description is also from that song. 
> 
> Seriously comments are loved if you do make it through this. 
> 
> Find me on twitter @ Defaltmanifesto

He’s not sure why he thought it would change when the war was over and he feels foolish for even hoping. In a weird way, Deimos sort of hoped Abel would die. Fighting day in and day out against aliens while simultaneously being the biggest risk takers and the army’s secret weapon was a recipe for disaster, but somehow, both Cain and Abel survived and now they were back on Earth on army pensions sharing an apartment.

And most nights Deimos gets to listen to them fuck. Even through ear plugs, he can feel the headboard hit the wall so eventually he gives up on even trying to drown it out. By some fucking miracle, Abel and Cain came out of the war healthy and in love which leads to a seemingly endless sex life filled with grunted affections that on some nights make Deimos want to knife his eyes out and on others makes him uncomfortably hard as he wishes for Cain to say the same thing to him.

But, Deimos is used to disappointment. He’s used to the way it burns in his breast in the face of rejection. He was one mouth too many to feed at home in Russia, too quiet to make friends, too small to do much in the mines on some far away meteorite, too much trouble back at camp with his pretty face, too dumb to be a navigator, but a fighter? A worthless worm from a half-frozen shit country on a shit planet like him was perfect to throw on the front line as fodder.

He couldn’t even do that either. Because under all the failures, under all the rejection, Deimos still wanted to live. He wanted to live more than anyone else, wanted to survive, because for some stupid reason he couldn’t get his heart to realize that no one wanted him around and giving himself more time wouldn’t change that.

He made it out alive against his better judgment and now he jerks off to the love of his life fucking the love of _his_ life and lets the self-hatred at how pathetic he is curdle his blood. He avoids their eyes in the morning. They don’t notice. Deimos is just a ghost on the periphery. Blink and you miss it.

The hatred he once had for Abel burned itself out long before the war even ended. Seeing Cain stare at Abel cooking dinner with stars in his eyes doesn’t make his gut clench or his heart pound. He observes and slides off the barstool. He disappears out the door without anyone noticing.

Deimos can’t remember any relationships before Cain. His mother’s face is a blur, and he can’t remember his sibling’s faces, only that there were too many and the snow from when he’d tramped to the next town over in search of food after being abandoned part way home had made his toes burn and go numb. The people from his memories until Cain have no faces but Cain…even if he didn’t live with him, Deimos doesn’t think he could ever forget Cain’s face.

The cruelty in his eyes, mixed with desire. Desire for him, another fighter, another man, someone _wanted_ him, _needed_ him, _care-_

Replaced him.

Because Deimos could never hold a candle to someone as smart and beautiful and capable as Abel. It isn’t like he blames Cain for making the choice he did. Even if his superiors hadn’t pushed him to be with Abel in the first place, Deimos never stood a chance. No one ever stayed for him.

But Cain was the first and last one who almost did. The only one, for a moment, to realize Deimos existed and sought after his company. There was no one who could ever replace that in his life, no one who could outshine that brief bit of life Cain had granted him.

What he can’t figure out is why he’s still here. Why his love for Cain hasn’t died.

Maybe he’s still as dumb as he was back then. Too dumb to give in and let the snow take him.

-.-

“I don’t think this is going to work.”

Deimos stares at Cain, watching his lips shape the words and trying to make his brain process them. Rejected again. He says nothing, watches Cain squirm under the weight of his gaze. When was the last time he’d said anything?

“It’s just…Abel and I are concerned,” Cain says. “We’d hoped you’d come around but Deimos, it’s been a year and…you haven’t said anything.”

Deimos opens his mouth and then closes it because when did that happen? When had he lost his voice so entirely? Did it leave after the war? A soldier needed a voice to communicate but he wasn’t a soldier anymore, wasn’t a lover, wasn’t a child, wasn’t a sibling, wasn’t a friend. No one wanted to hear him, so he let his voice fade away the way his body was too stubborn to.

“Deimos, you’re my best friend,” Cain says. “But I can’t help you.”

There’s something here that doesn’t make sense. Something isn’t right, but Deimos can’t think of what it is when he hasn’t thought of anything other than the fact that no one wanted him for so long. Is Cain his friend? He supposes it doesn’t matter. Cain doesn’t love him, he’s made that clear, whatever he says now…it’s not what Deimos wants or needs. It’s clear he’s overstayed his welcome.

He gets to his feet, body torn between going to the door for his shoes and his room for his belongings. There isn’t anything he can think he wants to keep. A wounded noise makes his chest vibrate with sound, unfamiliar and confusing. He shoves it down and focuses on his shoes, ignoring Cain’s voice like Cain ignored him for so long. Ties the laces and wonders where he’ll go. There’s always somewhere for someone like him.

There’s always something a body can do, labor or sex or warmth or sacrifice.

"Deimos.”

Cain’s hand spreads warmth around his wrist. It means something, Deimos just can’t remember what it is. He tugs away and offers Cain a smile. It’s all he can do because he can’t understand the look in Cain’s eyes, too unfamiliar and foreign (love, concern, desperation). Then he’s gone, out the door and down the stairs, heading for the road.

Maybe he'll find someone that looks at him with the cruel desire he's missed for so long.


End file.
